Imogene takes a moment to examine each of us, pausing to study the bruises on Sydney’s neck and the blood on our clothes.

“What I know,” she starts, “is that my boarding school sold me to an evil man. I realized he would eventually kill me. And after I went to Anton about it and was turned away, I was contacted by Leandra Petrov.” Imogene takes a big gulp of wine and sets it down. “Leandra told me what we are. Which is, I’m assuming, why you’re here. You want to know more about our programming.”

“Do you know about our programming?” I ask. “Because we just found out tonight. And—”

Imogene holds up her hand to stop me. “I’ve only known for a few days,” Imogene says. “Just long enough.”

“Long enough for what?” Sydney asks. Just then, I notice Brynn glancing around, her nostrils flaring. It’s then that I smell it too. Something floral and thick, but under that is an acrid scent, something old or rotten.

“For me to make things right,” Imogene says. “Considering the state of you, I’m guessing you need a place to hide. You’re welcome to stay with me as long as you need to.” She glances at the door. “But not the boy.”

I lower my eyes, wondering if I can leave Jackson behind.

“Thank you, Imogene,” Marcella says. She smiles at her as Brynn wanders into the living room, staring at the black-tiled fireplace. Imogene watches her curiously before turning back to us. She leans her elbows on the counter, and when she does, her sleeve falls down her arm and we see the bruises wrapping her wrists like bracelets.

Before we can ask if she’s okay, Imogene motions to Sydney’s neck. “Are you in any pain?” she asks.

Sydney shakes her head no, although I’m sure she’s lying. I’m in a lot of pain. So much, in fact, it’s a constant struggle to keep my thoughts straight.

“If you change your mind,” Imogene says, “I can help. My husband kept an emergency repair kit in his closet.” She bares her teeth. “You know, for my accidents.”

There’s a viciousness to her tone that is entirely expected, but also terrifying. Cruelty from investors isn’t unusual; they don’t see us as human.

But they underestimated us. They don’t get to decide our fate. Not anymore.

Our reaction to their violence is what the girls and I are trying to weigh out now. You don’t beat a monster by becoming one yourself.

“Where … is your husband?” I ask. “Will he be home soon?”

“No,” Imogene says, grabbing her wine. “He left me finally. He didn’t like my sharp tongue.”

“And what about Leandra?” Marcella asks. “Why did she tell you the truth? Did you read the poems?”

Imogene smiles. “Oh, the poems,” she says, seeming delighted that we have that in common. “They were brilliant, weren’t they?”

“Violent,” Brynn corrects from the living room, still examining the fireplace.

“Well, yes,” Imogene says, sipping from her wine. “That was the brilliant part.” She smiles at me, but I’m unsettled. Something is … off about her. She’s not like us. At least, not in the same way.

“What happened after you read the poems?” I ask.

“I stopped taking the pills my husband was feeding me,” she says. “And then … well, then I started making decisions for myself. It’s amazing what you discover when you start answering your own questions.”

“Do you think the academy will come looking for you?” Sydney asks.

Imogene runs her finger along the rim of her wineglass. “No one will come after me so long as I keep to myself,” she says. “I was placed in a home. I’ve followed the rules. They have no reason to think any differently.”

“Won’t your husband tell him?” Sydney asks.

“No,” Imogene responds.

At the fireplace, Brynn takes a sudden step backward, nearly tripping over her shoes. We all turn to her, but Imogene doesn’t look up from her wineglass. Brynn stares at us, wide-eyed.

“You okay?” Marcella asks.

Brynn opens her mouth, but then closes it when Imogene lifts her gaze in Brynn’s direction.

“Yeah,” Brynn says. “I just … I have to use the bathroom.”

“You can use the one in the hall,” Imogene says, watching her. Brynn nods and heads that way.

“What did Leandra want you to do with the information?” I ask Imogene. “About what we are?”

“She wanted me to head toward Winston Weeks, of course. She’s always trusted him. I’m not as convinced.”

“Help us, then,” Marcella says. “Help us take down the corporation.”

“I’ll pass,” Imogene says. “I’ve finally found my freedom. I’m not about to trade that to end up on a metal slab somewhere.”

“You can’t just stay here,” Marcella says. “You have to fight back.”

“I already have. I’m content,” Imogene replies. “You girls, on the other hand—it seems you could use a hot shower and some food. Give yourselves a moment to think.”

Marcella and Sydney exchange a glance, seeming to consider the offer. I look back at the door and turn to Imogene again.

“What about our friends?” I ask. “In the car we have another girl and two boys.”

“No boys.”

“They’re not like the men at the academy,” I say.

Imogene licks her lower lip and finishes off the wine in her glass. “They’re all the same,” she says. “But you’re free to make your choices, Philomena. I won’t be another voice in your programming.”

Imogene walks over to put her glass in the sink. “I’ll be in my room. You’re welcome to use the rest of the house. There are five other bedrooms upstairs that you can use. We’ll discuss this further in the morning. In the meantime, enjoy your freedom.” She smiles. “It’s intoxicating, isn’t it?”

Marcella nods at her in a placating way. It’s impossible to tell if Imogene is being earnest or delusional. If the effect of the wine on her personality is a complicating factor.

Imogene grabs the bottle off the counter and heads toward her room with it, pausing in the hallway when Brynn exits the bathroom. She looks her over and then smiles.

“You feeling okay?” Imogene asks softly. Brynn nods, but I can tell something is wrong from here. Her posture is rigid, her hands clasped in front of her. Suddenly, Imogene hugs her, and Brynn falls back against the wall, momentarily stunned before bringing her arms up to return the hug.

“It’s so good to be around girls again,” Imogene says. “My husband kept me from you. I’m glad he’s gone. I’m glad.”

We all watch them until Imogene pulls back, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Good night, my girls,” she announces. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Marcella calls back, matching her tone. But the moment Imogene disappears into her room, Marcella waves Brynn over to us and looks around worriedly.

“We stay the night and then we leave first thing in the morning,” Marcella says. “Got it?”